Rock Chick Redemption by Kristen Ashley
“I have to beg my staff to leave at the end of the day. I got no problems with Head coasting along. I could join a commune for six months and they wouldn’t even know I was gone.”
This was true. Annette’s staff was like the staff in Nick Hornby’s High Fidelity. Their whole life was Head. If someone threw a live grenade into Head, they’d fight each other for the opportunity to throw themselves on it. It was scary.
“You aren’t talking me out of this,” I told her.
“Sure I am. That’s what friends do when their friends turn into idiots and make stupid decisions on the fly,” she retorted. Then she shouted, “Road trip!” and disconnected before I could say another word.
I flipped my phone shut and stared at the ceiling.
I realized I lived on a small island of sanity while all else around me was bedlam.
I was about to torture myself with “Both Sides Now” or really go for the gusto and switch to Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic” when a knock came at the door.
“Yeah?” I called.
“Dinner’s ready,” Uncle Tex boomed.
I set aside my MP3, rolled off the bed and headed out of the room.
* * * * *
It was late.
Uncle Tex and I had eaten our blanketed pigs and macaroni and cheese. Later, we had some cookies and cream ice cream. Even later, after-dinner drinks of Uncle Tex’s moonshine.
We finished watching Letterman and I got up from the couch and said, “I’m going to bed.”
I looked down at Uncle Tex. He had the phone (a rotary phone, by the way, its cord strung across the living room) sitting on his lap and he was glaring at it so hard I thought laser beams were going to shoot from his eyes and burn it to cinders.
“‘Night,” I said when he didn’t answer.
He looked up at me.
“He’s gonna call.”
I smiled at him. Even I knew it was a sad smile.
I’d had a short conversation with Nancy, but I figured she’d soon be family, so she’d be safe. Eddie had called again, so had Indy. I didn’t talk to either of them.
Hank had not called.
I knew what it meant. I’d known it even before I went on my date with him.
It was dark in my room, he couldn’t see me last night, battered face, bruised body, but he knew. He could smell it on me. He dealt with people like Billy every day. I was Billy’s girl, even if it was once upon a time.
Hank didn’t want that stink in his bed.
I bent down and kissed the top of Uncle Tex’s head again.
“He’s gonna fuckin’ call,” Uncle Tex growled.
I touched his shoulder and walked away.
I got into the bed and lay there for a while.
Then I got out my MP3 player and found the song.
I listened to “Because the Night” from Springsteen’s Live 1975/85 box set.
Then I listened to it again.
On the third time around, I started crying. Not huge wracking sobs, even with the paper-thin walls, Uncle Tex would never hear me.
Then I shut off my player, wiped my face on my pillow and went to sleep.
Chapter Eleven
Pretend World of Bubble Gum Goodness
I rolled out of bed feeling better than I had the day before, the aches and pains were subsiding.
The mirror in the bathroom showed me another gruesome concoction of bruising colors on my face but at least they were fading. The marks around my neck, arms and wrists were still visible but not nearly as angry.
I wandered into the kitchen, poured myself a cup of coffee and saw Uncle Tex’s note saying that he’d gone to work and would be home around one.
I was wandering back to my bedroom, having visions of a morning spent performing more musical self-torture, when I glanced sideways out the picture window in Uncle Tex’s living room, and stopped dead at what I saw, coffee cup arrested halfway to my lips.
I huge truck was stopped in the middle the street and, hovering in the sky, dangling from what looked like a crane, was my car in straps.
Regardless of the fact that I was wearing nothing but a pair of pajamas (strawberry colored bottoms with cute powder blue and turquoise retro stars printed on them and a strawberry camisole with turquoise lace), I threw open the door and ran, barefoot, to the sidewalk.
“Hey!” I shouted at a big, black guy in dirty blue coveralls who was at the truck’s levers. “That’s my car!”
“Taking it in to change the tires,” he said, not stopping from his maneuvering of my car, which was floating precariously in the air over the flatbed truck.
“Can’t you change the tires here?” I yelled over the noise.
“Tex wants me to do it in the shop, told me to give it a tune up and detail while I got it.”
I was going to kill Uncle Tex.
“It doesn’t need a tune up. I had it serviced before I drove out here.”
He shrugged.
I scowled at him.
He ignored me.
I saw a car approaching and turned to watch as Hank’s 4Runner rolled up the street.
I forgot about my no-longer earthbound car and stood frozen watching Hank park.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
Hank got out, his eyes on my car in mid-air, and walked to me.
He looked good.
He wore jeans, boots and a wine-colored henley. There was a gun and badge attached to his belt. All that was missing was the white hat.
He stopped next to me, eyes still on my car. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked, not looking at me.
I realized, belatedly, that it was warm as a summer’s day outside. Still, I was standing on the sidewalk in my pajamas and I hadn’t done anything with my hair.
Shit.
“That’s my car,” I said.
Hank looked down at me and I just caught myself from holding my breath.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Uncle Tex slashed my tires.”
Hank stared at me.
“He didn’t want me to leave,” I explained.
Hank stared at me another beat, then his eyes moved on my face, then to my throat, my arms and my wrists, taking in the bruises. I almost bit my lip but forced myself to stay still under his scrutiny. Then his eyes moved to mine. “We have to talk,” he said.
Damn tootin’, we had to talk.
He turned and walked to the porch.
I followed him.
He stopped at the porch, not attempting to go inside. I found this odd but I stopped with him.
“You want coffee?” I asked.
“I’m not stayin’ that long.”
I blinked at him, confused.
Then it hit me.
His eyes were all wrong. They weren’t sexy-lazy or alert. They were distant and disinterested.
I felt my breath start to come faster, like I’d run a race before I’d run the race. And, the fact was, I wanted to run, run as fast as I could, as far away as I could get.
“What’s up?” I tried to act like I didn’t feel like I wanted to curl up and die.
“You’ve been dodgin’ Eddie,” he said.
I blinked, confused again, but he went on.
“You can’t protect Flynn, Roxanne. I’ve already filed. He broke into my house and trashed it.”
“Protect?” I said, unable to form a full sentence.
“Eddie’s comin’ by this morning to take you to the station so you can give your statement, file charges if you want, or not. Your choice. But even if you go home, I’m still following through. And since we found out Flynn is wanted in Boston, Pensacola and Charleston, once we find him and deal with him here, he’s gonna be a busy guy.”
I couldn’t speak.
I wasn’t surprised that Billy was wanted in three different cities, four counting Denver, even though it was news to me.
No, the reason I couldn’t speak was because Hank thought I was protecting Billy.
He interrupted me.
“I found your scarf at my house, Indy’s got it.”
Automatically (and inanely) I said, “It’s Tod’s.”
“Indy has it,” he repeated, looking away and watched the crane settle back into position, my car in the flat bed. Then he looked at me, eyes blank, like Eddie’s were the first time he saw me.
“Gotta get back to work,” he said. “Take care of yourself.”
At his dismissing words, I moved suddenly. It was involuntary but I jerked back, just at the middle, like he punched me in the stomach.
Immediately, his hand came out to grab my arm and his brows drew together. “Are you okay?” he asked.
I stared at him then nodded my head. “Fine,” I lied.
He watched me a beat, then two. It was my time to say something but I couldn’t think of what to say.
“Talk to Eddie,” he said.
I just stared at him and didn’t say a word.
Then I watched as his eyes grew hard and he let go of my arm.
“Suit yourself.”
Then he walked away.
I watched him go, watched the flatbed truck go and watched the street for a good long while before I turned and walked into the house.
I set my cup on the coffee table and stood in the living room.
Petunia, the ginger and white cat, rubbed my legs.
I sat down on the floor, the better position to pet her.
Then I curled up on the floor, on my side, my knees to my chest. Petunia walked on top of me and sat on my hip. Then she cleaned her foot.
This is how Eddie found me when he opened the door.
“Jesus,” he muttered.
I rolled to my back and Petunia scampered.
I stayed flat on the floor and looked up at Eddie.
“Hi,” I greeted him.
“You okay?”
No.
No, I was not okay. I was anything but okay. I was so far away from okay that okay was in another dimension.
“Peachy,” I said.
“Why are you lyin’ on the floor?” he asked.
Because the best guy I’d ever met thought I was some stupid, idiot woman who would protect an outlaw even after he’d beaten me and kidnapped me and dragged me through three states. Because that same guy was about goodness and justice and wanted nothing to do with a woman like me. Because that fact broke my heart and pissed me off and I wasn’t sure which one I felt more. I thought.
“I felt like having a rest,” I answered.
Eddie took a second to process this, then he said, “Did you talk to Hank?”
I nodded my head.
“I’m here to take you down to the station to file charges against Flynn.”
“Okeydoke,” I replied, rolled over and carefully got up, holding my ribs.
When I was up and looked at him, he was staring at me with undisguised surprise.
“Sorry?” he asked.
“I said ‘okeydoke’. Can you hang on while I get ready?”
He kept staring at me, then, slowly, he nodded.
“It takes awhile for me to get ready. Maybe you want to come back.”
His eyes went guarded.
“I’ll wait.”
“That’s cool. Coffee’s in the kitchen,” I told him and then went to the shower.
* * * * *
I’d never pressed charges against anyone. I’d never even been to a police station except on a field trip in sixth grade. I wasn’t sure what the dress code was.
I took a shower. I blow dried then parted my hair deep on the side and smoothed it into a severe ponytail secured at the nape of my neck. I caked on the makeup to try and hide the bruising (this, for your information, didn’t work). I wore a skintight, camel-colored, pencil skirt that came down to just below the knee and had a slit up the back, topped with a red, jersey t-shirt and, on my feet, sexy, red, spike-heeled sling backs. Finally, I tied a jaunty scarf around my neck.
I looked like Faye Dunaway’s Bonnie in Bonnie and Clyde, but without the beret or shotgun and with a little more flair for color.
I walked out and Eddie was on the sofa, drinking coffee and watching a ballgame.
“Ready,” I announced and went to the TV. “You want me to turn this off?”
Uncle Tex’s TV had to be thirty years old; it had no remote. It was likely considered a priceless antique in some circles. It definitely belonged in a museum.
I turned and looked at Eddie. He was giving me the once-over.
“Eddie?” I called when he didn’t answer.
His eyes had kind of glazed over, but he came to and looked at me.
“Let’s roll,” he said.
I almost didn’t get up into his fancy, red truck because my skirt was so tight but I made it.
We drove to the station in complete silence.
He parked and I twisted gingerly to undo my seatbelt. He stopped me from twisting back around to get out when he put a hand on my arm.
“You should know somethin’ about what’s happenin’ with your boyfriend,” he said, looking me in the eyes.
I blinked at him.
“Boyfriend?” I asked.
“Flynn,” he replied.
My back went up. “That would be my ex-boyfriend,” I informed him.
He stared at me, then ignored what I said and went on.
“You repeat any of this in the station, I’ll deny it.”
It was my turn to stare at him.
He continued. “Lee’s got one of his boys lookin’ for him. Not only that, he’s put a bounty on Flynn so not only is Ike lookin’ for him, and the cops, but also every bounty hunter in about eight states. Lee’ll probably get him before we do. Hank has given Lee orders and Tex has agreed,” he paused and watched me. “Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
I didn’t so I shook my head.
“Flynn’s going to the holding room before he’s turned over to the police. Vance has called dibs. Vance gets first crack after Tex has his shot. Hank’s bowed out but you know that by now.”
Oh, I knew that last bit, for certain. Hank had been pretty clear that morning.
I also understood what Eddie was telling me. Billy was going to this “holding room” and they were going to beat the shit out of him. I felt badly for Billy, but I figured what comes around, goes around.
“Do you understand now?” Eddie asked.
I nodded my head.
“You got anything to say about that, say it now, to me. I won’t like it but I’ll put in your word. Right now, it’s up to Tex and Vance to take into consideration what you have to say.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I’ll talk to Lee about havin’ Flynn taken directly to the cops, no holding room. You should know, I doubt he’ll listen. It wasn’t easy for him to watch his brother, or Tex, go through that.”
Well, poor Lee. I thought.
It wasn’t a nice thought, but then again, I wasn’t having one of my better days. In fact, I wasn’t having one of my better weeks.
“Let me get this straight,” I said. “You think I’m going to ask you to protect Billy?”
“That’s right,” he replied.
I turned fully to him. It kind of hurt my ribs, but I did it all the same. I wanted to have his full attention. “First off, he tried to strangle me, then he took a switchblade to the sweater I was wearing, then he hit me, then he dragged me through Hank’s house.”
Eddie’s eyes had been guarded, but the guard slipped at my words.
I ignored it and carried on.
“Then he kicked me in the fucking ribs, threatened to rape me on Hank’s bed and kidnapped me, bound my wrists, drove like a fucking crazy man for two days, tied me to the steering wheel any time he left the car and made me go to the bathroom with my hands tied while he watched.”
Eddie’s guard was gone, now, his eyes were glittering.
“That’s just plain rude,” I told him. “I won
My voice was getting louder, it was filling the cab, and I didn’t care.
I threw up my hands and looked at the ceiling of the truck. “I mean, jeez! I broke up with him, like, I don’t know, years ago! A woman locks you out with your suitcases in the hall, get a fucking clue!”
Okay, now I was shouting.
“Roxanne –” Eddie said.
I ignored him.
“Then, Uncle Tex is back here, all freaked out and Hank… whatever. And Lee’s boys are running all over the fucking Bible Belt,” I stopped and looked at him. “Are Nebraska and Kansas in the Bible Belt?” I asked but I didn’t wait for an answer. “Anyway, doesn’t matter. I don’t know what this holding room is, but I don’t care. Do whatever. Billy’s a memory. I just don’t want to know.”
Then I turned, opened my door and jumped out of the truck.
It would have been a great exit, except I kind of wobbled on my heel a little bit when I landed.
I started walking without waiting for Eddie, but he caught up to me.
“Hang on there, Chica,” he said, grabbing me by the waistband of my skirt. It was quite a catch since my skirt was so tight. He must have had a lot of practice doing that.
I stopped and glared at him. “What?”
He looked down at me, his eyes still kind of glittery and I could tell he was making up his mind about something.
Finally he said, “I think I need to have a chat with Hank.”
“Don’t do me any favors,” I snapped. “Hank’s a memory too. I’m going to file charges, get my car and blow this crazy burg. Denver is Looney Tunes Town. I don’t care if it’s October and feels like July and I can see the mountains every day. This place is nuts and since I’m half MacMillan, coming from me, that’s saying something.”
Once I finished, I pulled away and stomped into the station.
My Mom would have been proud.
* * * * *
The room was filled with desks, chairs, couches and people. Most of the people stared at me openly when I arrived. I ignored this, straightened my shoulders and followed Eddie to a desk. All around me was a hive of activity, people walking around, talking, phones ringing, doors opening and closing.